Oh Happy Day
by BlurtItAllOut
Summary: "Make someone happy, Make just one someone happy; Make just one heart the heart you sing to. One smile that cheers you, One face that lights when it nears you, One boy you're ev'rything to. Make someone happy, Make just one someone happy, And you will be happy, too."


**This is so not what I planned to do this Easter, but my muse wouldn't stop nagging about it, after I got the idea on March 20th. I was listening to my radio, where a stunt reporter was doing all kinds of nice gestures to celebrate The International Day Of Happiness, enthuastically and joyfully so. And of course it made me think about Blaine. So this happened. This is a one shot, it will not be continued, I have way too many chapters waiting in my head to be written for my two current WIPs :)**

**Summary is from the song _Make Someone Happy_, by Jimmy Durante.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you might recognize.**

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Kurt skims the menu, trying to decide how strong a pick-me-up he needs after the long day, not to mention week, at work. Usually he'd avoid these generic and mainstream Starbucks in favour of something more personal, with extra service and better seating. But his usual coffee shop is closed because of water damage after a fire in the bakery next door two nights ago, and he hasn't had time to go scavenger hunting among the multitude of coffee shops in New York yet, so today he ends up in the first Starbucks he can find between work and the subway.

The waiting line is long, with a mix of tourists who think Starbucks is part of the New York-experience and busy business people who don't have the time to appreciate the caffeine as the liquid black gold it is. Fortunately, as most Starbucks, the staff works as if they're standing by an assembly line, and it doesn't take too long before Kurt is being asked how the extremely unkempt and bored barista can help him.

"A grande non-fat mocha, please," Kurt smiles overly bright and polite, in hopes of passively-aggressively teaching the teenager something about customer service. His order is tried and true, and thus something he often comes back to. Few coffee shops manage to mess it up, even though the quality differs from place to place, and he really misses his usual coffee source.

"That's on me," a warm, gentle, but eager voice behind Kurt cuts in. "And if you could please add a medium drip to the order," the boy smiles, and moves so he's almost side by side with Kurt. Not until then does he look at Kurt, and smiles shyly at him, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as if he isn't sure what he's doing.

Kurt raises a judging eyebrow at the boy, or rather young man. He's had his fair share of strange encounters since moving to New York almost two years ago – the city of opportunities is filled with all kinds of characters. New York has room for them all, and Kurt really tries not to gawp like a farmer boy in the metropole, but some things still take him by surprise. The Marilyn Monroe-loookalike with a pronounced Adam's apple, who takes the same subway as Kurt to work, is now a familiar and dear sight. The busker with a real life monkey on a leash took longer getting used to. Living with Rachel and Santana is still a trying exercise he probably never will get completely used to. And random acts of kindness from strangers – that's farfetched in the busy life of New York outside the dating scene. Sure, the girls have taken him to gay bars, claiming he needs to spread his wings and explore everything the city has to offer. But whenever someone's offered to buy him something, it's been led by or followed by, or more often both, some transparent pick up-line. It's been painfully obvious that the men want something Kurt isn't offering, and so far he hasn't managed to find someone who both wants the serious relationship he's looking for, and who he also clicks with. He's wasted a lot of time on pointless dates and clubbing, though, in his futile search.

"Excuse me?" Kurt asks, and isn't particularly picky about hiding his discomfort from his voice.

"I'm buying you your coffee," the young man replies, making it sound like a question. He looks away to pay the cashier, with an assortment of change. The rest he drops in the tip jar.

"So you say. Are there any particular reason for that?" Kurt enquires, and tries to soften his voice, because the coffee-buyer hasn't really done anything wrong, and when Kurt takes the time to actually look he's also really cute.

"It's March 20th," Cutie McCoffee grins, as if it is the answer to everything.

"I am aware," Kurt says dryly. He had a big deadline today, thus the long day at work and the desperate craving for coffee.

"So you know what kind of day it is?" the boy beams, rolling on the balls of his feet, and his eyes are sparkling with excitement. After a horrible day, it would probably be just Kurt's luck to walk in to some alternative Twilight dimension instead of finding the shortest way back to the loft in Bushwick.

"Friday," Kurt deadpans, still trying to figure this guy out. He's immaculately dressed, with red pants, an olive green duffel coat, a thick steal grey scarf draped twice around his neck, a vintage news cap sufficiently tilted on top of a head of gelled hair to look whimsical, but deliberate. Kurt's not sure if he approves of the wingtips considering the slushie-snow-remnants outside, but they do complete the outfit. It may be a far cry from what Kurt would wear himself, but he recognizes labels when he seems them, and the clothes fit and suit the young man. Kurt finds himself curious what he's wearing under the coat.

A bored, monotone voice calls out their coffee orders, and Fashionable Medium Drip turns effortlessly and fluently to grab their coffees from the counter, and gives Kurt the mocha. They both step away to not clog the line, and Kurt looks expectantly at the other – he still wonders what's so special about Friday March 20th.

"It's the International Day of Happiness," Blaine gushes, and gesticulates as if he's trying to embrace the entire planet.

"Now that's a line I haven't heard before," Kurt chuckles.

The other man's face falls.

"No, it's not a line. It's true. It was established by the United Nations two years ago. Google it if you want," he suggests, and unpeels the lid off his coffee to sprinkle cinnamon.

Kurt inhales the steam from his coffee, impatiently waiting for it to be cool enough to drink without risking third degree burns in his mouth.

"No, I believe you," Kurt finally decides, knowing he'll most definitely google it when he's back home. "But what does it have to do with my free coffee?"

"Well," the Happy Spender hesitates, and twirls a wooden spoon in his coffee. "Today is about focusing on happiness, and I thought good deeds would make at least a few New Yorkers happier."

"Hmm…" Kurt takes a careful sip of his coffee.

"Is it working?" the Starbucks Samaritan asks eagerly, and damn his eyes for twinkling like that.

"Of course," Kurt snorts. "When has coffee not worked?"

It earns him a rich, honest round of laugher, warm and heartfelt.

"So how many coffees have you paid for so far today?"

"Umm, this is my first, actually."

"Do you have a few minutes, or do you have a quota of happiness to fill before midnight?" Kurt teases.

"No. No, I definitely have time. I'm my own boss during this mission," he grins.

Kurt quickly scans the coffee shop, but there are no available tables.

"We could go for a walk?" the Mocha Missionary suggests. "It's a beautiful day."

Kurt takes in the grey sky, the dirty pavements, and the threat of rain. Clearly, they consider the glass with fifty percent liquid differently. Still, it's better to walk, than to stand awkwardly and in the way for everyone. He needs to head towards the subway anyway, so he can keep the stranger company for a while, as a polite thank you for the coffee.

"I guess fresh air could do my tired brain some good."

A smile ignites across his face.

"Blaine Anderson," he beams, and extends a hand. Who does that anymore? Enraptured and intrigued, Kurt shakes his hand, and gives Blaine his own name.

"Kurt," Blaine says, as if he's tasting the name. "Nice to meet you!"

He then offers to hold Kurt's coffee while he puts on his gloves, and Kurt then returns the gesture, before they together brave King Winter's latest attempt at ruling the world.

"So, this is the first coffee you've bought someone today?" Kurt asks, picking up on where their conversation took a break.

"Yeah, I initially wanted to do something nice that didn't cost anything. Set a good example, you know, show that happiness can come for free," Blaine chuckles self-consciously.

"But?" Kurt enquires softly.

"People tend to look at you really funnily, and mostly dodge you, if you offer free hugs," Blaine shrugs.

"That's precious," Kurt giggles. "Although I can understand it. Hugging is personal, and there are a lot of weirdoes in this city. I bet I could have been paranoid enough to assume it was a ploy from a pickpocketer," Kurt admits.

"I didn't even think about that," Blaine sighs. "But I gave it up anyway, and decided to entertain people by singing and playing my guitar. But they kept dropping coins in front of me, so I had to stop. I don't think taking their money was what the United Nations meant by establishing an International Day of Happiness."

"Is that how you paid for our coffees?" Kurt says teasingly, thinking about the bizarre amount of change Blaine had spent.

"Well, I couldn't just keep it!" Blaine objects faux scandalized.

"And here I thought you were doing a good deed."

"I invest in good karma?"

"What comes around goes around?"

They smile at each other, and laugh shyly.

Kurt clears his voice, and takes a sip of his coffee to buy himself seven more seconds.

"So, are there a certain quota of happiness you need to create today?"

"No, I think making one person a little happier is enough. At least it would be if everyone obeyed their responsibility," Blaine smiles, but there's a serious undertone in his voice. "Did I succeed, though?"

"Yes," Kurt hums into his coffee, smiling pleased, but trying to keep it cool in front of someone who's just made his entire week much better. "I feel happier. Thank you,"

"Good. Mission accomplished. Everything I say and do from now on come from a selfish heart, and not as some selfless, kind gesture."

Kurt laughs with him, and ignores how they pass the entrance down to his train. He's all of a sudden in no rush to get home yet.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Blaine says calmly, expression open and eyes resting warmly on Kurt.

"Why did you pick me to buy that coffee for?"

Blaine blushes, and ducks his head, and Kurt chews on his lip. Blaine takes a long sip of his coffee, as if he needs to prolong his excuse for not answering.

"I had been waiting inside that Starbucks for a while, building up enough courage to buy a stranger their coffee. When I saw you enter, I just knew you were someone I'd like to talk with. Buying you a coffee was a perfect excuse to talk even a little with you."

"Oh really?" Kurt teases. He may be single, but living in New York has taught him enough about flirting and dating, and he isn't the same naïve, innocent, inexperienced teenager he was when he left Ohio. New York has given him both confidence and life experience. Back in high school he might have needed to double check and analyze everything, and hesitantly wait for someone else to make the first move. But he's an older, more mature and braver boy now. Even if Blaine isn't flirting and just has a really generous and warm way with people, Kurt isn't afraid to flirt back. "Well, I'm glad you chose me," he says, and lets himself drown in Blaine's eyes for just a tad too long to be merely friendly.

"Dinner," Blaine blurts out, and Kurt quirks his right eyebrow. "Do you have plans for the evening? Are you hungry? May I take you out to dinner?"

"Nooo," Kurt draws out the vowel, as he mentally scans his day planner and various appointments, deadlines and dates with his roommates. "And yes, times two."

"Good," Blaine exhales. "And to make sure – you know I'm not doing this as part of the United Nations' policy, right? I'm doing this as me, for me."

"Well, that's a relief, I think involving international politics would be a little heavy for a first date, don't you think?" Kurt winks.

Blaine startles, but guffaws.

"I'm so glad I waited for you," he smiles softly, and Kurt gets a heady sensation of someone looking for him their entire life, and finally finding him. The way Blaine smiles at him makes it feel as if that is true.

"What'd you like to eat?" Kurt asks to lighten the suddenly serious mood.

"Oh, I can eat anything. I guess I should have done some research before asking you out, because I don't know where's decent to dine around here."

"Not your neighborhood?" Kurt asks knowingly.

"Not really. My school is close, but I've only been living in New York since September, and I'm still trying to find my footing."

"I know the feeling," Kurt nods. "This is my second year in college, and the city can still be overwhelming when you've spent the 18 first years of your life in a cow-town in Ohio."

"No way…" Blaine whispers, and Kurt looks worriedly at him. "I'm from Ohio too!"

They spend the next ten blocks discussing similarities, differences and shared experiences of growing up in Ohio, and of growing up as gay in particular. Kurt keeps the topic lighter than the truth requires, though, not considering every little detail of the bullying at McKinley a proper conversation starter for a first date. There's something in Blaine's eyes that tells him he's holding back too.

"I remember those blazers," Kurt smiles ruefully to lighten the mood. "When we met you for Regionals. My friend Mercedes and I kept calling your school Gay Heaven," he says, looking teasingly at Blaine.

Blaine laughs fullheartedly, and rests a firm hand on Kurt's shoulder to steer him around a puddle of dirty slushy snow.

"You had some really great performances," Kurt continues, glad he's perfected breath control through his classes at NYADA, so he won't reveal how Blaine's warm hand is affecting him. "Although, I have to let you know - you cannot pull off gangster."

"Aww, you remember my silly faces," Blaine gushes, cheering carefully with both hands in front of his chest.

"They weren't convincing," Kurt says patronizingly, but he smiles, and Blaine smiles back.

"Maybe not, but they were memorable."

"Touché."

They walk in silence for a block, glancing shyly at each other, with sweet smiles and blushing cheekbones when they see the other looking.

"Here," Blaine suddenly says, stopping so abruptly Kurt has to backtrack a couple of steps.

"Pardon?"

"We're eating here," Blaine exclaims enthusiastically.

"Okay," Kurt laughs. "Have you been here often?" he asks, and takes in the exterior of the tiny restaurant. It's difficult to get an impression of it. A neon sign reveals its name _That Food Place_, a hand-written note taped to the inside of the door shows the opening hours, and the window is draped in one of those membranes that makes it difficult to look through it, but Kurt thinks he can see the outline of a few plants, and the faded flickering of lit candles.

"I've never been here before," Blaine admits. "But my stomach is growling, and I'm feeling like being adventurous. Are you up for it?"

He smiles so eagerly, and Kurt is already infatuated by his expressive face and playful enthusiasm, so the only choice is to accept.

Blaine opens the door with flourish for him, gesturing for him to step in. Kurt's heart beats frantically at the attention, at the manners, at the courteous gentleman.

"Thank you," he murmurs happily. Blaine follows after, sidling up next to him. He rests a gentle hand on Kurt's lower back, looking hesitantly at him as if he isn't sure the touch is welcome, is okay. So Kurt leans a little closer, brushing his shoulder against Blaine's. This is so, so okay.

There are ten tables in this dining establishment, and only two of them are occupied. There's no staff to see, not even by the bar slash register. Just in case, they wait a couple of minutes. An older man sitting alone by one of the tables looks dumbly at them, and nods at all the available tables.

"Okay, I guess we can sit wherever we want," Blaine concludes. "Any preferences?"

Kurt looks around, but all tables look the same. White and red checkered table cloths, a flickering candle prodded into a wine bottle, and an obvious fake potted plant.

"Maybe the one over there?" he suggests, discreetly pointing at a smaller table in a corner secluded from the other patrons.

"Perfect," Blaine smiles, gaze never wavering from Kurt's face, and with a gentle, encouraging nudge at his back he leads him over to the table. He even pulls out the chair for Kurt!

"Where are you from?" Kurt wonders, as Blaine's sat down on the chair across of him.

"I told you. Columbus, Ohio."

"Yeah, I remember," Kurt waves, "but I've never met anyone like you. Who are you?"

"I'm sorry," Blaine ducks his head, rubbing his face in his hands, before dejectedly leaving his hands on the table. "I've been told I can be a bit too much, coming on too strong," he says sadly, and Kurt wants to bitch slap whoever has said something like that to someone as sweet as Blaine, instead of appreciating him for the jewel he is.

"Don't say that," Kurt murmurs, wanting to keep their conversation private. He reaches out an arm, and with his index finger traces the outline of Blaine's hand flat on the table. "I like it. I thought romance was dead. But meeting someone like you gives me a reason to keep dreaming."

"Kurt…" Blaine whispers reverently, and turns his hand around. The tips of their fingers gently and searchingly run against each other.

"Sorry, was that too much?" Kurt asks, sounding shyer than he feels.

"It's perfect."

They lock eyes for the longest time, knowing smiles on their faces, and fingers still touching innocently. It feels far from innocent, though, the way Kurt's blood is rushing. He's glad his long-sleeved shirt can cover up the goose bumps along his arms. This was a good day for layers, and he's glad he ignored casual Friday this particular week.

And he did right being curious about Blaine. Now that he's removed his coat, Kurt can take in his entire outfit. A young, gorgeous man with warm eyes, a kind smile, great humour, impeccable manners – and who wears bowties? He seems like someone to keep around for a while. For a long, long while, if the first impression keeps.

They are interrupted by who Kurt assumes is the waiter, offering them menus and something to drink. The young girl is wearing blue jeans and a black t-shirt with the logo for one of the local breweries printed across her chest, so he can only assume she works there. They separate their barely linked hands to accept the menus, and give their drink orders.

"Now let's see what they have," Blaine says eagerly, and opens the laminated menu. Kurt is impressed by how his smile remains stoically on his face as he scans the options, because Kurt is not impressed.

The restaurant seems to be trying to follow some fusion-trend, if by fusion you mean having a menu with both American spare ribs, Italian pasta, Chinese spring rolls, a few sushi dishes, and a vegetarian option.

"This looks… eclectic," Blaine smiles hesitantly, and Kurt snorts. "We can go somewhere else, if you want?" he adds, looking at the bland room and the original menu. "This isn't exactly a romantic date scene."

"Blaine," Kurt hums, and reaches out to touch his fingertips again. Such a tiny touch, but it does a lot to Kurt's heart and hormones. "Relax. Breathe. I'm with you, that's what's important. I may approve of some wooing, but I don't need to be impressed by superficial surroundings."

Blaine smiles relieved to him.

"If you'll ever accept a second date with me, I promise that it'll be at least prepared and planned," he smiles ruefully. With his middle finger, he traces down along each of Kurt's fingers.

"I'll be looking forward to it. But right now I want to enjoy our current date," he flirts.

Blaine chuckles, and ducks his head, but not without Kurt catching the pleased smile across his face.

"So, what looks good?" Kurt asks, and opens his menu again. The way Blaine is biting his lip tells Kurt that he was about to say something, and he doesn't understand why he'd stop himself from coming with suggestions. "What? I know you want to say something."

Blaine lets go of his lip, and blushes as he mumbles something.

"Come again?" Kurt teases, more curious than the cat.

Blaine sighs, and leans back in his chair.

"You, okay? I was going to say you." He seems embarrassed, and it's a look Kurt doesn't want to see on him again.

"Thank you," he murmurs, carefully nudging at Blaine's foot under the table. He doesn't want to risk scratching Blaine's shining wingtips, and he thinks removing his own shoes to play footsie is reserved for a later date. "That's sweet of you."

Blaine seems to be relaxing more, and leans closer to him.

"Hey Blaine?"

The boy gives him his undivided attention, tilting his head as if he's waiting to listen carefully.

"Relax. You're doing fine. And just… Be yourself. It's you I want to get to know, so don't think you have to give me a censured version or stop yourself from saying anything, okay?"

Blaine nods solemnly.

"I guess I haven't dated a lot. I promised myself New York would give me opportunities I'd embrace without hesitance. I promised myself New York would be a fresh start. But I'm still just me," he shrugs.

"There's no 'just' in being you, Blaine. Do you think I'd accept an impromptu dinner date from any random handsome stranger? You're special. Me being here is the most unwavering confirmation you'll ever get that there's something about you. I do have standards," he says haughtily, preening when Blaine smiles so his eyes crinkle.

"Well, to your credit, you're the first I've met so stunning that I couldn't let you disappear in the crowd without at least trying. I'm so, so glad I acted out of character, and found that courage."

"I guess we should be grateful for the United Nations," Kurt sighs pleased.

"Hey, you said no international affairs on a first date."

"You're right, let's focus on local catastrophes. I'm famished," Kurt winks.

They finally decide on what to eat – Kurt Kung Pao Chicken and Blaine a burger with seven toppings and curly fries. They sit for a long while trading new kid in town-experiences, and wait for the waiter to return for their orders.

"Oh, this is getting ridiculous," Kurt finally exclaims, loud enough for the other patrons to look at him. "You wanted the Seven Deadly Sins, right? Refill?" he adds, nodding at his half empty glass.

"Yeah, but…"

Blaine doesn't get to say more before Kurt gets up from his chair and strides determinedly towards the door to the kitchen, next to the empty bar. He glances through the tiny window, and when he doesn't see anyone nor can find a bell on the counter, he walks purposefully inside.

"I'm sorry, would it be possible to order food, or would that be too much of an annoyance?" he asks, startling the waiter and a man in a greasy apron sitting by a table. She's solving a crossword, and he's sharpening his knives. She looks up with a bored expression, eyebrows raised as if she's wondering why he's disturbing. He rattles off their orders, gives her an empirious wave, and strides back to Blaine.

"That was amazing," Blaine gushes when he returns.

"I told you I have standards. Waiting more than 30 minutes in an empty restaurant for someone to take my order is far below my standards."

"I'm sorry, we can still go somewhere else," Blaine says apologetically.

"Don't worry," Kurt shrugs. "The food might be worth the wait. And I have excellent company."

The food isn't worth the wait, and not only because it takes 45 minutes. But it is 45 minutes the boys don't realize are disappearing, being lost in wonderful conversation.

They mutually decide to skip dessert, though, because it's getting late and who knows how long it can take the kitchen to prepare two slices of cheesecake? Blaine promises to make it up to Kurt later.

"Would it be presumptuous of me to take your hand?" he asks, when they're back on the street. Blaine insisted on paying, Kurt insisted they didn't deserve anything for tips, but Blaine left some change anyway.

Instead of answering, Kurt takes his hand in his. Blaine's smile could probably melt the polar ice.

"So, where do you live? Can I walk you home?"

"You know sex is off the table, right? I'm a romantic," Kurt says playfully, but not without a serious undertone.

"I could make sex on the table romantic," Blaine insists and winks.

"Hmm… One day you might get the chance to prove that statement," Kurt winks back, and Blaine just stares at him, swallowing heavily. It feels good, being wanted like that, by someone who's spent hours with him and shown they are interested in him for more than his body. It feels good, being wanted by someone who doesn't mind waiting.

"The first date is too early for me too," Blaine eventually says, when he's regained control over his vocal chords. "But I'd like to be a gentleman and make sure you get home safe and sound."

Kurt tries to argue that an hour on the train to Bushwick, and then back, is a complete waste of time. But when Blaine looks at him fondly and says spending an extra hour with him is worth it all, all fight is drained out of Kurt.

They sit close on the crowded train, and every point of contact make it tingle. They don't talk much, wanting their conversation to be private, and not ruining the perfect date with superficial chatting so early on. But the looks and the smiles say it all, and the way they keep bumping into each other every time the train is slowing down or speeding up may be a tad exaggerated, but it's nice to feel the other against their own body, in a very innocent but quite exciting way.

When they reach Kurt's station, he expect Blaine to get on the first returning train, but oh no, Blaine insists on walking him to his door.

"I've lived here for almost two years. It's a good neighbourhood."

"But kissing you goodnight by your door is more romantic than under bad lightning in a dirty corner of the subway station."

Swooning? Kurt Hummel is most definitely swooning.

They walk close towards the loft apartment, hands linked between them, and Kurt points out his favourite deli, a good place for coffee, a park he wants to have a picnic in one day, an old church he finds particularly interesting as architecture even though he has no religious tendencies.

True to his word, Blaine walks him all the way to his door, even if it means climbing five floors of stairs.

"At least I don't need going to the gym," Kurt excuses when they're halfway.

"I bet climbing these stairs a couple of times each day does wonders to your…" Blaine interrupts himself again, and Kurt stops him with a hand to his chest.

"What did you want to say?" he leans in and whisper against Blaine's ear. The boy swallows audibly.

"Your ass," he whispers hoarsely.

"Mmm," Kurt hums, enjoying the flustered look on his date. "I guess it's decent. Maybe I'll let you evaluate it one day."

"Hnnng," Blaine agrees throatily.

Kurt smiles to himself, and continues the climb. When Blaine doesn't follow immediately, he turns to look at the boy three steps down.

"Everything okay?" he asks innocently. Blaine shakes his head and laughs, running up to catch up with him.

"Sorry, just, lost in daydreams."

They reach the top of the stairs and the sole loft apartment Kurt shares with his friends.

"So, this is me, home safe and sound."

"Thank you for an amazing date."

"I think that's my line," Kurt hums, leaning against the door, and weighing his options against each other.

"Can I ask you out again?"

Kurt nods happily.

"Soon?"

Kurt nods even more eagerly.

"You said something about kissing me goodnight by the door?" he reminds him coyly.

Blaine ducks his head bashfully, but then takes a deep breath, and seems to steel himself.

"Would that be okay?" he asks carefully.

Instead of answering, Kurt yanks him closer by the scarf wrapped around his neck, and kisses him surprisingly gently considering the rough manhandling. Blaine soon catches up, and cradles Kurt's face in his soft hands, brushing his lips tenderly against Kurt's.

"Goodnight," Blaine murmurs against his lips, before Kurt kisses him again.

"Goodnight, Blaine."

It takes a couple of more kisses, before Blaine finally manages to tear himself out of Kurt's arms, and waves at him as he slowly skips down the stairs, leaving with a promise of calling him tomorrow.

A day of happiness indeed.

The next morning, his phone awakes Kurt. He stretches lazily before answering, a thrill running through his body when he sees who it is. He prepares himself for a hopefully long and pleasant phone call with Blaine throughout the morning, thinking he rightfully may have high expectations after the wonderful conversations they had last night.

"Good morning, Kurt," Blaine's velvety voice tickles his ear. "I promised I'd call."

"That you did. Such a trustworthy, outstanding young man."

Blaine chuckles down the receiver.

"So, you told me at several occasions to not filter or censure myself. What I'm about to say now may either scare you away for good, or may be a good move."

"Well, colour me intrigued," Kurt murmurs, wondering if it's possible to be more fascinated by this wonderful person.

"You should open your door."

"I should?" Kurt asks dumbly.

"I would suggest that, yes."

Curiousness wins over any other instinct, and he quickly rolls out of bed, slips into his robe and slippers, and heads over to the door. He talks Blaine through his actions in lack of anything more interesting to say, when 97 per cent of his mental capacity is focused on what might be behind that door.

"I'm getting closer to the door, I'm by the door, I'm opening the door, I'm looking out, and oh… You're here!"

"Hi!" Blaine says into the phone, smiling at him.

"Hi," Kurt exhales. "I'm not dressed."

"You just told me."

"I haven't showered."

"I don't mind."

"I'm hanging up now, okay?"

"Okay."

He pockets his phone, and smiles hesitantly at him.

"I thought showing off the bed head wasn't supposed to happen until after at least the fifth date."

"And I thought you said yesterday you didn't consider yourself a conventional guy," Blaine teases. "My brother once taught me it was only polite to make breakfast after a successful date," he adds, and gestures at the bag of groceries in his hand.

"I haven't met your brother, but I'm pretty sure that advice was for dates who actually put out," Kurt grins.

"I don't care. I'm here to make you breakfast, and it's the least I can do after that terrible dinner last night. They gave slowcooking a new definition."

"You're too kind," Kurt murmurs, and leans in to plant a quick kiss to the corner if Blaine's mouth. It's too soon for morning breath. Blaine instantly wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him closer, and Kurt buries his nose in the crook of Blaine's neck, inhaling his scent and warmth.

"Come in," he finally manages to suggest, and he's never been happier about Rachel and Santana's numerous morning-TV appearances as the successful duo from Ohio in _Funny Girl_.

He gives Blaine a quick tour, which is neither complicated nor comprehensive considering the open solution. Kitchen slash living room, bathroom, two bedrooms separated by curtain partitions, and the couch where Santana usually sleeps. He tries to coax Blaine into relaxing on said couch, but Blaine insists on preparing breakfast while Kurt showers. Kurt tries to suggest they at least make it together, but Blaine insists they can save that for later, for now he wants to make up for the restaurant he whimsically chose last night.

Kurt does his quickest morning routine ever, but he doesn't mind much when he has something more alluring than skin care waiting for him in the kitchen. He returns with minty fresh breath, and it's quite fitting that Blaine is wearing Rachel's Kiss the Chef-apron.

"Almost ready," he hums against Kurt's lips, "unless we burn it."

It turns out he's made French toast and bacon, and prepared a pot of coffee.

"Wow," Kurt murmurs, "I thought yesterday was the International Day of Happiness."

"It was. This is wooing," Blaine says bashfully. "Is it working?"

"No complaints so far."

"Phuh, good," Blaine grins, pretending to wave sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand. "But just in case, for extra points, I brought cheesecake. There are also two slices for your roommates."

Kurt thinks about saying something along the lines of _let me keep you forever_, but it's much too soon for that, so he kisses him instead.

They share breakfast while Blaine with fascination tells him about some of the more colourful aspects of New York he saw on the train this early Saturday morning.

"I guess I'm not quite acclimated to this city yet," he apologizes, after Kurt gives him a particularly fond look.

"No, I understand. I like to think that if I keep a little bit of Ohio in me, I'll never stop being fascinated by New York, and never take anything for granted."

"I like that philosophy," Blaine smiles.

They do the dishes together, before curling up on the couch with more coffee, where they talk for a long time about Vogue, fashion, cars, musicals, football (the three sentences it takes to figure out where they stand respectively) and the dubious pleasures of having a brother.

"You know what we should do?" Blaine suddenly asks, in between discussing the beauty of a proper Windsor knot versus the personality of a colourful bowtie. "We should totally see if we can get rush tickets to a matinée."

"Yes!" Kurt exclaims. After all, they've spent extended time discussing favourite Broadway shows, dream castings and their most wanted part, so it's only logical.

"Oh, unless you have other plans. I didn't intend to monopolize your time," Blaine says apologetically.

"Don't worry, there's nothing I'd rather do," Kurt answers easily. Sure, he has a paper to finish, a shirt bought on sale that needs adjustment, he's behind on laundry, it's his turn cleaning the bath, and he needs to see if there are any questions online from Vogue's readers that need replying to. But that can wait. Because a hot cutie wants to spend time with him.

He looks at Blaine's outfit, and his own clothes, and decides he can change without it being unfair. Blaine looks really handsome and put together, while Kurt picked what he saw first in his closet to rush his morning routine when Blaine suddenly appeared. Not completely randomly, of course, he still needed to impress. But he knows he can look better.

"Give me fifteen minutes, and I'll be ready, okay?"

"Okay," Blaine smiles, and endears him further into Kurt's heart. Instead of claiming he already looks good enough, he understands the importance of wanting to dress nicely, and gives him the time and space.

Kurt pats his shoulder as he leaves. When he peaks behind the curtain five minutes later, Blaine sits comfortably in the couch, legs crossed by the knee, and is seemingly deeply engrossed in one of the latest Vogue on the shelf under the table. Kurt smiles pleased, before continuing to rapidly dress to the nines.

It takes closer to thirty minutes before he's ready, and Blaine doesn't call him out on it, doesn't ask if he's ready soon, but waits deeply emerged in the magazine. He looks up when Kurt finally comes out, and his face is priceless.

"You look terrific," he breathes, getting up from the couch. Kurt spins slowly with a wink, and Blaine all of a sudden looks smug.

"What?" Kurt asks, arms propped on his hips.

"Umm, remember when we talked about the stairs yesterday, and how they might enhance certain… assets? I just got it confirmed," Blaine swallows.

Kurt looks at his jeans. He knows they are fitted, but he didn't think they were jawdropping-worthy. Good to know! He closes their distance, and leans in to kiss Blaine again. He doesn't know why, but there's something intrinsically comfortable about the young man, something about him that makes Kurt just want to curl up and cuddle while he spills all his dark and bright secrets. Or kiss him leisurely for the next hours, that might work too.

Blaine helps him with his coat, and he blushes cutely when Kurt returns the favour. Kurt adjusts Blaine's scarf, as an excuse to just touch a little more.

The train ride takes no time, when they have so many interesting topics of conversation to fill the hour. For instance a cappella versus back up-band, or if it's worse living with two girls or two boys, as Kurt and Blaine do respectively.

"Wes and David are like my slightly older twin brothers, so we are close. But, as we've already established, brothers can also be annoying, and older brothers can have a protective streak."

"You love them," Kurt teases.

"I do. I've been through everything with them. They're… Yeah, I love them. But don't try to convince me you don't love Santana and Rachel."

"Even though they fight like cats, and both threaten to move out or kick the other out every third day, I wouldn't be without them."

They do find reasonably priced tickets for a show both of them actually have an interested in, and with still an hour until curtains they decide to grab a quick bite.

When Blaine suggests one of the hot dog-stands, Kurt scoffs.

"I don't care how iconic New York they are, I will not eat something that fat, soaked in who knows how old liquid fat. A bagel, however, that is something I can get down with," Kurt puts on an accent.

"You're not exactly hardcore gangster yourself," Blaine teases.

"That's because I'm incognito," Kurt says airily, and pulls on a pair of sunglasses from his satchel. It makes Blaine laugh in that way he already knows he'd like to record and listen to on repeat.

They do get their bagels and coffee, and takes a breather on concrete stairs not far from the theatre. Kurt thinks this is the happiest he's ever been – eating good food next to someone like Blaine, with Broadway tickets in his pockets. Then Blaine melts his heart even further, by wrapping an arm around his waist.

"I lied to you, yesterday. I promised our second date would be prepared and planned."

"You came prepared and had planned to make me breakfast."

"And then I just blurt out all my spontaneous ideas, and look were it got us," Blaine says evenly, but he looks sad.

Kurt turns in Blaine's arm to look him steadily in his eyes.

"I don't know what kind of boys you've been with before and what people have told you, but I'm very happy to be here. Don't change for me, please? What you've shown me of yourself so far, is something I like a lot."

"You mean that? You're happy?" Blaine looks so hesitant, it makes Kurt want to do something with his sai swords to whomever has made Blaine feel he has to tamper himself down.

"I was just thinking how I've never been happier than I am right now, next to you."

"Wow," Blaine breathes slowly. "I like you too. A lot. You make me happy. May I kiss you?"

Kurt quickly looks around them. Living in New York has spoilt him, and he feels free to be whoever he wants to be. But PDA will never be classy, no matter sexual identity. But a tiny kiss can hardly hurt. So he nods, letting Blaine kiss him, a sweet lingering brush of lips against lips. It leaves him literally breathless. He wishes he could go back in time and tell his Freshman self at McKinley about this.

Before soon, they have to find their seats. Kurt hasn't been able to treat himself to theater tickets as often as he'd like and had been daydreaming about in Lima, and it's more often than not been off-Broadway. So to sit in plush deep red velvet seats with a date to see a true, acclaimed Broadway show must be any theatre-nerd's wet dream. Blaine takes his hand as soon as they've gotten comfortable, weaving their fingers together, and the way his thumb keeps brushing over Kurt's skin is almost as captivating as the stage. If this is how it'll be like to date Blaine Anderson, Kurt is truly excited about it.

Intermission is spent gushing over what they've seen so far, and after the standing ovation their hands automatically link together again, even as they walk outside. They head for the nearest coffee shop, which happens to be a Starbucks, to decompress over caffeine. They talk through most of the first impressions, to let out some of the surplus buzz after the amazing performance.

"I can't believe it's merely been 24 hours since I bought you that coffee."

"No, it must be more," Kurt objects, "at least a year or so more."

Blaine doesn't take the statement the wrong way it might have been interpreted, but instead shows him a receipt from the day before. Checking with the time on his phone, it's been pretty accurately 24 hours.

"Wow. It's been… A joyride," Kurt laughs. "What happens next?"

Blaine's smile deflates a little.

"I should probably head home to appease my roommates. Considering I said I was going out to meet someone for breakfast, I do understand their constant nagging through text to make sure I'm okay."

"They seem kind. I'd like to meet them one day."

"I should warn you. They are entirely loveable, but can be a bit too much. Like having two spoilt Golden Retrievers who don't know how to behave. But, umm, if it isn't too soon, you could come over on Tuesday? Or any Tuesday, really. We have Taco Tuesdays."

"Taco Tuesdays?"

"Yeah. Everybody has an opinion about Mondays. Wednesdays are the halfway there-mark. Thursday is the last leg before the weekend, and by Friday the mere idea of the weekend helps you work through whatever obligations. But Tuesdays are most often left out, or frowned upon because it's still so far away until weekend. So we made Tuesday a good day. Taco Tuesdays!" Blaine explains enthusiastically.

"That's adorable," Kurt laughs, "and I'd like to come over. What can I bring?"

"A great deal of patience, just in case."

They walk hand in hand towards the subway station.

"Call you?" Blaine asks sweetly.

"Not if I call you first," Kurt parries back, and leans in to kiss him goodbye, before they go separate ways for their trains.

That was only the first day in a long, long line of happy days for the young men, together.


End file.
